Pete is just another intern vying for a job at the city's most-read paper, The Herald. In his search for the latest scoop, however, he discovers that the popular urban myth of 'angels' that come out at night to defend the townsfolk is not a myth-and that the story behind the fascinating beings is in no way divine, but macabre.

Crow sat, perched upon a gargoyle a few hundred feet from the ground. She was perfectly still, the moonlight reflecting eerily from her black leather suit and knee-high boots. Only her pale chin and blood-red lips were visible from beneath her hood. She noted a masked man mugging an old lady with mute interest, then, standing and spreading her glistening ebony wings, dove down towards them, her lips curling into a small smile.

“Show time.”


“C’mon, kid! If you really want a job you gotta come up with better than that!”

Pete gazed down at the paper on the desk through thick, square glasses with black rims. He had practically memorized the contents, seeing how many times he had read it over, but he managed to hide the hurt from his face. He scratched his shaggy caramel hair and pushed the massive glasses back against his face.

“Gee, I didn’t think it was-”

“Are you crazy?”

The woman speaking with him pursed her lips and plopped, fuming, onto her office chair. She swiveled around to face him and, tapping her purple nails against the armrest, sighed.

“We have to sell papers, you know? A story about some new goat disease isn’t gonna cut it.”

Pete considered telling her that his article was about a deadly cow virus but, thinking better of it, remained silent.

“You know what? I’ll give you another chance. Get me something juicy by the end of the week and maybe I’ll let you stay on as an intern.”
Pete nodded vigorously, serious beyond serious.

“Yes ma’am. Of course, ma-”

“Okay, sonny, that’s enough. I’ve got things to do, places to be…”

She glanced at her immaculate nails and, muttering something about a ‘god-damned nail file’, pushed her way past Pete without a second glance his way.

“Nina! Call the salon and tell them I’m coming to get a refund!”

The clerk who she’d addressed only nodded slightly, used to her boss’ odd behavior. The job had great benefits, but that was about it.  Pete, still dazed, scooped his rejected article off the table and, determination stirring inside him, walked towards the exit. He would get that story-no matter what it took.

The End

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